


Fairest

by inu_spike



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horror, Character Death, Gen, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-08
Updated: 2013-11-08
Packaged: 2017-12-31 20:47:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1036196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inu_spike/pseuds/inu_spike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Would you trade your soul to be perfect? Would you give away everything for the one you love? (Yup, still crappy at summaries)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fairest

Disclaimer: I own nothing more than the laptop this was written on, and the plot. All characters belong to their proper owners.

WARNING!: There might be some disturbing imagery in this. I don’t think there is, but someone somewhere might. So I’m putting this just in case. ^^

SECOND WARNING: CHARACTER DEATHS! MULTIPLE! Please don't cry.

This is un-edited/non-beta'd/straight off the top of my head, so please excuse any mistakes you might find.

 

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Fairest

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He stared at the image before him with the same disgust one would have for a piece of maggot infested, rotten meat. His black hair, that everyone admired and fussed over, was greasy and stringy; limp and lack-luster.

His much adored pale skin was a molten mass of pock marks, acne craters, and black heads. White tipped pimples just aching to burst were splattered along his brow and down his nose, in a vulgar trail of clinging adolescence.

The blackened eyelashes his mother was so fond of pointing out were stubby and uneven; as if he had taken a pair of small scissors and hacked at them with the will of a madman. His upper eyelids were tinged with maroon from one too many nights without sleep and the lower were the color of fresh bruises.

And last but not least, his most striking feature—the one that everyone told him left a lasting impression—his pitch black irises. They were surrounded by red-veins and watered under the harsh fluorescents of the bathroom. They still hurt from the blood-vessel that had burst during the night while he had cried hysterically over something or other that had happened the previous day.

He watched as one hand brought itself up to eye level, the appendage covered in a litany of scars and bruises. The finger-nails, at least, those that were still attached to fingers, were bitten to nubs; most of them just ended as bloodied stumps where nails should have been. He didn’t have to look to know the other hand was just as badly wounded.

His pajamas had short sleeves and he gazed at the scars—some old, most not—that ran up the length of the limb. A few were little scars, scratches from accidental falls and the like. Others were large and self-inflicted; put there while their owner had been lost in a rage. In fact, there was a new one up just under the hem of his night shirt; he had gone a bit overboard, it would seem.

Sasuke sighed and ran a hand through his silky hair. The image in the mirror doing the same, through filth-ridden bangs. The tips of his fingers brushed down his smooth nose, watching as his counter-part’s fingers rose and fell as they ran over the acne covered organ.

He reached his other hand out to the mirror, getting close but never touching. He ghosted his fingers over the other’s brow and nose, over hair that hadn’t been washed in days and around to encircle the exhausted orbs staring back at him.

This was his own personal nightmare. Something he could never tell anyone about. What would his parents think if he told them he sold his soul in order to have all his ugliness sealed away in the bathroom mirror? That if he ever actually touched the image, he would be the one disfigured? That everything he did to harm himself went to the him that was stuck behind glass? His coldness, his cruelty, his anger, his hate, his sorrow, his passion, all causing physical damage to the other, instead of himself?

No, they’d lock in a loony bin faster than they had Uncle Madara when he started talking about world domination through the use of a giant fox. Sasuke snorted and shook his head; he had really liked the old man, too. But now he was locked away in a padded room until the day he died. He would never again be able to see his family without a white-clad guard around supervising and he would never be able to set foot outside of the mental facility his family had placed him in.

The thought brought on a wave of misery and Sasuke had to clench the side of the sink in order not to collapse to the floor. He watched in morbid fascination as his mirror-self screamed in silent agony, fresh lacerations appearing on his neck, just above the shirt’s collar.

He blanched a bit at the symbolism those particular marks brought to the forefront of his mind, causing them to deepen on his counter’s skin. Around the neck, a sign of bondage, of slavery, of never being able to break free of the curse he had cast upon himself.

Sasuke threw the bathroom door open, intent on running from the room when he felt a peculiar feeling wash over him. It was a cold, dread-filled feeling, and it took him a moment to figure out what it was.

There, in front of him, stood his brother. His older, sadistic brother. His older, sadistic brother that had made his own deals with the devil in order to obtain what he most wanted in life. Sasuke was never able to get what exactly that was out of the elder, even after he had given all the details of his agreement. A red gleam shone in Itachi’s eyes as he stared at Sasuke, advancing on the other one slow step at a time.

“I-Itachi? What are you doing here? I thought you were…” Sasuke trailed off, his eyes focusing on something in Itachi’s hand. He didn’t want to believe it. He didn’t want to see what he was seeing. He just wanted to go back to bed. He didn’t want to see what Itachi held in his hand.

The elder Uchiha raised the chef knife higher, watching as a large drop of blood fell off the very tip and onto the wooden floor with a loud splat. “Sasuke…” He called.

“No, no, no, no..” Sasuke backed up several paces and found himself stopped with the sink’s edge biting into his lower back. Itachi continued forward.

“Mother and father found out about my, let’s say, little secret. They were going to put me with Madara. Well, I couldn’t very well let that happen. Now, could I?”

Had Sasuke been anywhere near his right mind he would have tried to duck around his crazed brother, or back towards the second door that led to his bedroom, or even moved towards the shower stall to buy some time. But he wasn’t and suddenly he found himself with his back pressed against the very mirror that held his ‘inner’ self.

Scarred arms reached out through the glass and encircled his neck. He screamed as they began to tighten and pull him backward, into the mirror. His legs kicked out and his arms flailed, tears sprang to his eyes as he held his hands out to Itachi.

“Big brother! Please! Help me!” The tears fell from his eyes steadily as Itachi lowered his head into his hands and his shoulders shook. He was being pulled through the mirror!! His mangled counter-part was dragging him into the reflective glass like one would push their hand through water. When the last of his body had been brought through, Itachi spoke.

“I am, baby brother.” Sasuke watched as Itachi lifted his head and, as the glass began to solidify over him, streams of anguish made themselves clear on Itachi’s face. The arms that had been wrapped around Sasuke’s neck began to dissolve. The younger Uchiha whipped around and looked on as the creature that had taken his emotions and suffered from them slowly disappeared; a forlorn look upon his face. Sasuke reached out a hand to touch the other, but felt nothing.

A movement from Itachi called his attention back to the bathroom. “My deal,” the elder started shakily, “Was to have the power to save you. My soul…for yours.” Sasuke could do no more than to stare in shock and horror while Itachi dropped the knife on the ground and fell to his knees.

“If I could trap you in that mirror, then your soul would be returned to you. You’d be able to go on in the afterlife, not stuck in hell for all eternity. Do you understand, little brother? Sasuke? Do you understand? I did this for you.”

Itachi picked the knife back up off the floor and pulled himself to his feet. Sasuke screamed, but there was no one to hear it. His ‘soul’ was gone, back in his body, Sasuke supposed. He watched helplessly as Itachi raised the knife and brought it down in the center of the mirror.

Sasuke felt himself shatter into fragments, hundreds of pieces that broke up and shattered again as they hit the floor. He felt as Itachi sobbed in despair, but also in elation. His baby brother was free.

-!-

When the police arrived a few hours later Itachi was still sitting in that bathroom, a smile on his face and a knife in his chest. A pile of glass shards cradled lovingly in his palms.

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End!


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